


Afterimage

by NB_Cecil



Series: Spones [2]
Category: Star Trek: The Original Series
Genre: Acute Mental Health Crisis, Acute Traumatic Stress, Aftermath of McCoy’s Nonconsensual Mind Meld with Mirror Spock, Aftermath of Violence, Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Anxiety, Caring!Spock, Consensual mind Meld, Drunkenness, Emotional!McCoy, Established Relationship, Established Spones, Fluff and Angst, Healing from acute trauma, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, McCoy is a mess but he’s going to be ok, Mental Breakdown, Mind Meld, Mind Meld Aftercare, Mind Meld Negotiation, Mind Melding as Therapy, Panic Attacks, Post-TOS episode: Mirror mirror, Psychological Trauma, Spock is extremely respectful of McCoy’s boundaries, Spones Hurt/Comfort, Trauma, Vulcan Mind Melds, mention of anal sex, spones - Freeform, traumatic memories
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-17
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:07:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 5,197
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21834166
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NB_Cecil/pseuds/NB_Cecil
Summary: McCoy’s behaviour becomes erratic after his return from the Mirror Universe. His symptoms worsen and reach crisis point...
Relationships: Leonard "Bones" McCoy/Spock, Leonard “Bones” McCoy & Mirror Spock
Series: Spones [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1563289
Comments: 46
Kudos: 153





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Spones! Spones! Spones! These two are my current fixation, and— _gods_ —I love them so much. I hope this longer-than-my-usual-output piece (it’ll come in at ~5000 words when it’s all up) does this wonderful pairing justice. I’ll leave judgement on that up to you, readers.
> 
> I’ve drafted all the chapters and will be posting them over the next week or so. Heed the tags and enjoy!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> McCoy shows up unexpectedly at Spock’s cabin after an evening drinking home-brewed moonshine with Scotty.

Surprised by the interruption at such a late hour, Spock looked up from his computer at the sound of the door chime. “Enter.” He called.

The door slid open and the ship’s surgeon, Leonard McCoy, half-fell through, a wave of alcohol fumes wafting in with him. “Shhhpock!” He slurred, “I wanna talk to ya.”

“Good evening, Leonard.” Spock closed down the computer and rose from his seat. He reached the doctor in time to catch him as he staggered. “You are inebriated.” Spock observed as he guided McCoy into a sitting position on the sofa.

“Yeshhhh,” the human grinned, “Scotty’s moonshine. Shtrong shtuff.”

Spock schooled his features into a neutral mask and sat down beside McCoy. “Is that the ‘moonshine’ Captain Kirk explicitly banned Mister Scott from brewing aboard this starship?”

McCoy’s grin widened. “That’sh the one!” He crowed triumphantly. “Anyway,” His chin dropped to his chest and he lapsed into mumbling, “Came to ashk ya f’mind mmnnd.”

“You came to ask for _what_?” Spock asked as he propped the doctor up with several cushions, wedging him in an upright position.

“Mind meld.” McCoy clarified, placing a hand on the vulcan’s neck and pressing their foreheads together. “Wanna mind meld...” He mumbled, “...short shtuff out, yeah...”

Spock gently extracted himself from McCoy’s embrace. “My dear Leonard, this is one of your poorer ideas.”

“Nah, s’not.” 

“You are intoxicated to the point you cannot stand unaided.” Spock countered, “You are certainly unable to give meaningful consent to a mind meld in this condition.” McCoy opened his mouth to protest, but Spock cut him off with a sharp look. “And given that you have been avoiding mind melding with me for the last fifteen days, thirteen hours and twenty-one minutes, I find your determination to do so now highly questionable.”

“But I need to—.” McCoy persisted, his voice taking on a whiny, desperate edge.

“What you need,” Spock spoke sharply over his protestations, “Is to go to bed.” Spock stood and unceremoniously lifted the human off the sofa, slinging him over his shoulder. “We will resume this conversation tomorrow.”

Doing his best to keep Scotty’s homebrew in his stomach, what with his head lolling over the vulcan’s shoulder, McCoy banged his fists futilely against Spock’s back as he carried him to the bedroom. “Ya pointed-eared freak! Ya think y’know what’sh besht f’me.” He railed.

“Fascinating,” Spock deadpanned. He knew it was petty to goad the doctor in his inebriated state, but he took a small amount of satisfaction in further riling McCoy up after having his quiet evening interrupted by such a noisy, drunken intrusion.

McCoy’s response did not disappoint. “I’m not one of your computersh!” He fumed. “You stop doin’ ecshperementsh on me, d’ya hear?”

“I do indeed hear you, Leonard.” Spock replied, depositing him on the bed.

“Yesh, but ya don’ _lishten_.” McCoy continued ranting. “I wanna mind meld _now_ , ya green-blooded hobgoblin.”

“Insults will not induce me to mind meld with you in your current state. However,” Spock reiterated, tugging McCoy’s boots off as he talked, “We will continue this discussion tomorrow when I can better ascertain your reasons for desiring a mind meld, and ensure I have your full and informed consent to the process. Now, will you remove your shirt or shall I assist you?”

“Keepin’ ma shirt.” McCoy wrapped his arms protectively around his torso.

“If you insist, my dear,” Spock replied, “But it is likely you will feel, as you put it, _like death_ when you awake if you sleep in your uniform.”

“Alright, gimme shirt.” McCoy conceded, hauling himself up into a sitting position and pulling his shirt awkwardly off over his head. “Not a black one.” He said when Spock opened a nearby drawer.

Once again Spock arranged his features into a facsimile of neutrality. “Which of my shirts would you find acceptable?” He asked in as level a tone as he could manage.

“Nice purple one?” McCoy grinned hopefully.

“No, Leonard. That shirt holds sentimental value for me and you know I dislike you wearing it.”

The human pouted and fiddled with the IDIC pendant—a gift from Spock—he wore around his neck. “M’kay,” He yielded after a moment’s thought, “A black one.”

Spock pulled a black t-shirt and soft, grey lounge pants from the drawer and handed them over. “Get changed.” He instructed, and left the room. 

In the small kitchen nook off the main living area Spock leant his elbows on the counter, pinched the bridge of his nose and counted his breaths in and out, lengthening them until he gained conscious control of his body’s physiological responses. He replicated a large glass of water and carried it back through to the bedroom.

McCoy was lying atop the covers, one arm across his face to shield it from the overhead light. ‘Spock, darlin’, c’m’ere.” He mumbled.

Spock sat down on the bed and gently eased McCoy into a half-sitting position. “Drink this please.” He instructed, handing the water over. McCoy tried to wave it away. “Drink it.” Spock insisted.

“If you shuddup.” McCoy grumbled and took the glass, draining its contents in three long gulps and handing it back.

With some difficulty, Spock wrangled the doctor properly into bed, pressed two fingers affectionately to his cheek, and bade him good night. McCoy slurred something not even Spock’s excellent vulcan hearing could quite catch by way of reply, and rolled over, curling up in a foetal position in the middle of the bed. Spock dimmed the lights on his way out of the bedroom.

“Spock to Captain Kirk,” Spock spoke softly into the comm. 

_Kirk here._ Came a sleepy reply.

“Sorry to intrude on you at this late hour, Captain, but Doctor McCoy is unwell and I’m adjusting tomorrow’s crew rota to take him off duty.”

_I’m sorry to hear that,_ Kirk replied, “He has been under a lot of strain recently.”

“If it’s alright with you Jim, I should like to take myself off the rota tomorrow too. I believe it would be unwise to leave the doctor alone in his present condition.”

_Permission granted. See to it that all posts are covered. Kirk out._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that’s part one. I’d love to hear what you think of it so far. Speculation and theories as to where this is going are most welcome. I love to read others’ takes on my stuff.   
> SUBSCRIBE if you want to see what happens next. As always, comments and kudos are love, pals 💕


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After putting a drunken McCoy to bed, Spock meditates and reflects on the events of the evening, searching for patterns in McCoy’s unusual behaviour.
> 
> ***Some sexual content in this chapter, although it’s not explicit and not the focus of the story.***

Satisfied with his modifications to the crew rota, Spock informed Lieutenant Uhura of the changes via the ship’s comm for her to relay to the affected crew members, then switched the comm over to the _emergency only_ setting in the hope of getting some peace and privacy. He spent a few minutes tidying away the remnants of the day: padds and books returned to their correct places; cushions straightened on the sofa; chair tucked neatly under the desk, before settling cross-legged on the floor in the corner of his living area he reserved for meditation. Pressing his fingertips together in front of his face, he began with a simple breathing exercise, imagining himself floating in a rough sea which he slowly calmed through the application of careful thought, sloughing off the stresses of the day as the waves subsided.

Once the surface of his mental ‘sea’ resembled a still, summer’s afternoon, he turned his attention to the events of the evening, and searched his photographic memory for similarly unusual behaviour from the doctor during the recent past, noting several occasions where the human had behaved unexpectedly, with extreme irritability, hostility, or even fear, which—upon reflection—Spock noticed had frequently been directed at himself. He focussed on analysing one memory in particular, from eight days previous, one in which McCoy’s behaviour had been both extreme and exceptional.

They had been enjoying an evening of quiet, domestic intimacy together in McCoy’s cabin, cooking up a meal from a supply of vegetables they had recently taken onboard from an agricultural colony world, and bickering about a few lines of Shakespeare as they ate, followed by McCoy losing a game of three-dimensional chess with unusually good grace. They had retired to bed early and in goods spirits, McCoy grabbing Spock and pressing a forceful kiss to his lips in the bedroom doorway.

Spock was half-reclined on a stack of pillows, McCoy straddling his lap, their faces inches from each other, Spock’s hands on McCoy’s hips, guiding him in a slow, languid grind. Calculating an eighty-six percent probability that the increased intimacy afforded by a mind meld would be pleasurable for both parties, Spock raised a hand and pressed his fingertips to McCoy’s temple and cheek. He was about to verbalise his suggestion that they mind meld when McCoy recoiled from his touch with a sharp, half-shouted “ _NO!_ ”, scooting hurriedly off his lap and snatching up the duvet to pull it protectively around his shoulders.

“Leonard, I apologise.” Spock studied his companion with care. “I believed a mind meld would enhance our experience. Evidentially, I misjudged.”

McCoy regarded the vulcan warily, not taking his eyes off Spock’s face as he shuffled back to the far corner of the bed. “I don’t want to mind meld,” He spat, “Why would you think I’d want to mind meld?”

“You have enjoyed mind melding during previous moments of carnal intimacy between us,” Spock replied, “And I reassure you I would not have initiated a meld unless I was sure of your consent.” McCoy glowered silently at him. “I shall give you some space.” Spock declared, climbed off the bed, gathered his clothes, and retreated from the bedroom.

Seated at McCoy’s small dining table nursing a mug of herbal tea, Spock listened to the sound of the sonic shower emanating through the wall and puzzled over the events of the evening, looking for something which could have triggered the human’s sudden change of conduct. Finding nothing he could attribute as the cause, he contented himself with making his presence as unobtrusive as possible in preparation for McCoy’s inevitable emergence from the sleeping quarters. He softened his posture to an attitude he calculated to be casual enough as not to appear threatening, but not so casual as to trigger an accusation of him acting entitled to lounge around the doctor’s quarters. With McCoy clearly being in a delicate mental state and Spock having very little clue as to why, his calculations were based mainly on surmise and probability and he could only hope he hit the correct balance in his body language so as not to anger the human a second time.

Four minutes after Spock heard the shower shut off, the bedroom door _hiss_ ed open and McCoy emerged clad in a blue bathrobe.

“Leonard.” Spock spoke his name softly.

McCoy hung back near the bedroom door, addressing the bulkhead in front of him instead of looking directly at Spock as he spoke. “You should leave.” He said.

“Very well.” Spock replied in the same soft tone. He rose from the table. “Goodnight, Doctor.” He said, walking toward the door, keeping his movements slow and measured.

“Stay?” McCoy asked in a small, pleading voice as the door slid open.

“Of course.” Spock replied and turned back into the room.

With slow, measured steps he approached the human and raised his hand with two fingers extended in offer of touch. McCoy half-collapsed against him and Spock caught him, pulling him into an embrace.

“Please stay?” McCoy repeated, words hitching on a sob.

“I’ll stay,” Spock murmured, petting his hair.

Spock did not sleep that night. He had lain curled round McCoy in the human’s narrow bed, stroking a hand down his back, listening as ragged sobs gave way to the slow, deep breaths of sleep, and counting the minutes away until it was time to rise for his shift.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Quite proud of myself for successfully (I think?) writing a flashback. I hope you enjoyed Chapter 2. Please do leave a comment if you like, I love to read them.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and a very hungover McCoy discuss the events of last night and McCoy’s sudden, urgent desire to mind meld.

“Urgh.” McCoy poked his head out from under the duvet and cracked an eye open just wide enough to give a Spock a baleful glare. “What are you drinking? It smells like pond water.”

“Good morning to you too,” Spock greeted him. He was sitting in an armchair beside the bed, sipping from a mug. “It’s tea.”

“That’s not tea.” McCoy sat up and scrubbed a hand over his face.

“It is a most popular blend on Vulcan.”

“Remind me never to accept an offer of tea from you.” McCoy grumbled.

“I’m not offering you tea,” Spock replied and inclined his head toward a glass of water on the nightstand, “But I do advise you to drink the water. How is your head?”

“Awful.” McCoy picked up the glass. “Do you have any analgesics or do I have to stagger to sickbay to get a painkiller?”

“I have prepared a hypo.” Spock picked up a hypospray from the armrest of the chair and handed it over. McCoy took it and injected it into his neck with another groan. “Please finish your water.” Spock admonished.

“What are you? My doctor?” McCoy grumbled, downing the water despite his complaint.

“I am your lover and I care about your wellbeing.” Spock replied.

“If you care so much you’d take your dishwater tea elsewhere and let me sleep.”

“Very well.” Spock rose from his seat. “I have rearranged the crew rota to give your the day off. You look like you need it.”

“Ahh, my shift!” McCoy clapped his hand to his forehead. “I clean forgot. Thank you, Spock.”

“You’re welcome. I’ll be here when you wake. We do need to talk about last night.”

Spock dimmed the overhead light on his way out of the bedroom.

Several hours later Spock set the plant specimen he had been examining aside and turned to face McCoy as he emerged from the sleeping quarters. 

“Leonard, you are wearing my robe.” He said with displeasure.

“It’s cold.” McCoy shrugged. Given the doctor’s sorry state this morning, Spock let it slide. “And I want coffee.”

“You know where the replicator is.” 

In the small galley kitchen Spock sliced vegetables while McCoy replicated a large pot of strong coffee. McCoy sifted through the replicator tapes bemoaning the absence of cooked breakfast options. “I need bacon.” He complained.

“You do not _need_ bacon,” Spock countered, “And you know I don’t permit animal products, real or replicated, in my quarters.”

“Green-blooded pacifist.” McCoy grouched. Spock handed him a carrot. McCoy rolled his eyes and bit into it, wincing at the loudness of the _crunch_ in his ears.

Spock allowed McCoy to enjoy his first mug of coffee in peace, sitting opposite him at the small dining table, chewing on a protein cube and slices of melon while he watched the colour return to the human’s cheeks as the caffeine took effect.

“My head still hurts something awful.” McCoy complained, pouring himself a second mug.

“You’re dehydrated.” Spock replied. He pushed a plate across the table. “Eat some cucumber, it has a high water content.”

“I don’t like green food.” McCoy picked up a slice and put it in his mouth, chewed, and swallowed with a grimace.

Amused, Spock raised an eyebrow. “I wish to discuss last night.” He said.

“I was drunk and I behaved like an ass.” McCoy swigged his coffee.

“Your behaviour over the last sixteen days—since the transporter accident during your away mission to Halkan—has been most unusual, Leonard.”

“I’m just a bit tired, is all.” McCoy shrugged.

“It’s more than that,” Spock pressed, “You have been thirty-seven percent more irritable than usual.”

“Trust you to keep tabs on my mood down to the exact percentage.” McCoy rolled his eyes.

Calculating that dispensing with the precision of his analysis would allow him to communicate his findings more effectively, Spock refrained from mentioning further statistics and continued his speech.

“You are showing signs of anxiety, obsessing over minor details of the health myself and the crew members you are closest to—.” He raised a finger to stall McCoy’s interruption. “—Last night’s drunken stupor aside, your sleep has been interrupted. Over the last ten nights we have shared a bed six times, and you have woken in a state of panic on four occasions. You are clearly suffering from nightmares which you refuse to acknowledge. Your conduct toward me has been most unusual, veering between inappropriately clingy when one or both of us is on duty, and outright avoidance and hostility during our leisure time, and then there was your extreme reaction the last time we were physically intimate together. I am almost certain you had an experience on the _Enterprise_ ’s counterpart, when you crossed over into the Mirror Universe, which has had a negative impact on your mental health. You refusal to discuss anything that happened there strongly suggests you underwent a severe trauma during that time.”

McCoy put his coffee down and scrubbed a hand over his face. “yeah, that about covers it.” he sighed.

“I am sorry to pursue the matter, Leonard.” Spock said gently, “I was content to avoid addressing it directly, as that was what you appeared to want, but your erratic behaviour last night has me concerned for your safety.”

“Damn vulcan trying to psychoanalyse me.” McCoy grumbled.

“Leonard, this is serious. Please do not joke.” Spock reached across the table and took the doctor’s hand. “It is true I’m science officer not a psychoanalyst, but it is also the case that, due to our telepathic abilities, vulcans possess a naturally high awareness of others’ mental states. Now,” He gave the other’s hand a reassuring squeeze, “You were very insistent last night that you wished me to mind meld with you. Do you recall why you desired this?”

You’re not going to drop it, are you?” McCoy said.

Spock dragged his chair to the side of the table so he could sit closer to the human. “No,” He touched his fingers to the IDIC resting on McCoy’s chest, just below his throat, “I would be neglecting my obligations as your colleague, friend and lover if I were to continue to ignore this.”

McCoy closed his hand round Spock’s hand and the pendent, squeezing tight enough for the edges of the metal to press uncomfortably into Spock’s palm. “I—.” He faulted and stopped.

“Go on.” Spock said gently.

“I need you to mind meld with me so you can see what happened on the Mirror _Enterprise_.” 

“Thank you.” Spock inclined his head in acknowledgment of the trust McCoy had shown in saying it.

McCoy released his grip on Spock’s hand and let out a long breath.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My mum used to say cucumber has a “high water content” when she gave it to me when I was a kid, so I stuck that line in there for Spock to show his caring for McCoy.
> 
> We’re halfway through the story. I hope you’ve enjoyed it so far.


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and McCoy prepare to mind meld.

McCoy emptied the last half-cupful out of the coffee pot and returned it to the replicator to be reclaimed. He turned round to face Spock, who was regarding him thoughtfully, and leaned back against the countertop. “What?” He asked.

“We need to discuss this mind meld before we proceed.” Spock said.

“Can’t we just do it and see what happens?”

“That would be unwise, given your extreme terror at the suggestion of mind melding the other night.”

“Do you have to be so damn sensible the whole time?” McCoy grumbled.

“One of us has to be.” Spock replied.

“Alright Mister Logic, talk.”

Spock ignored the barb and outlined how he thought they should proceed. “If we were to go straight into it we risk repeating your terror, or—worse—inducing disassociation. I propose a period of joint meditation before we start.” McCoy bridled at this, but Spock persisted. “We can utilise the vulcan breathing techniques I taught you. Once we are both prepared mentally we can proceed with the mind meld.”

“If you insist.” McCoy shrugged irritably.

“I do.” Spock replied. “I would not perform a mind meld on you in these circumstances without first doing some psychological preparations. It is important that you have the ability to stop the mind meld at any point. We will use our meditation to establish and practice verbal and physical communications to this purpose. Once I am inside your mind, I will be able to sense if you wish me to stop but, given your fragile mental state, it is important on this occasion that you have the additional feeling of control afforded by having mutually agreed stop signals.”

McCoy shifted his weight from one foot to the other. “Eh, this is a lot,” He said, “I’d still rather we just did it quickly and got it over with.”

Spock stepped forward, closing the gap between them and pressed his fingers to the back of the human’s hand. “This is not the time for a quick mind meld. If it is to be done at all it must be done with care. We cannot rush it.” McCoy looked at him with conflicting need and trepidation written on his face. “Leonard, I will not judge you if you change your mind now or at any point,” Spock reassured him, “And, as always, I will respect those parts of your mind you wish to keep private. I will need you to guide me to the memories you wish to share.”

McCoy nodded his understanding. “Let’s start now so we can get it done with sooner.”

Seated on the floor in Spock’s meditation corner, their knees touching, Spock led McCoy through a series of breathing exercises, his low baritone murmur heightening the calming response in human’s parasympathetic nervous system. Once Spock was satisfied the exercises had bought them both to a liminal state of consciousness, he began talking McCoy through the process of stopping the mind meld, having him repeat the word _Stop_ aloud, and guiding McCoy’s hand to his thigh to practice gentle squeezing to signal _Stop_ , should he find himself unable to verbalise the need.

“When you are ready I will enter your mind.” He murmured, once the stop signal exercise was complete. “I will remain in the surface of your thoughts until I have seen an overview of what I find there. Once I have done that I will ask you to direct me to the memories you wish to share. Do you understand?”

“Yes.” McCoy whispered.

“Do you still wish me to mind meld with you in the manner I have described?”

“Yes.” McCoy repeated.

“In that case, I will now make the necessary physical contact, but I will not initiate the mind meld until you have told me you are ready to do so.” Slowly, Spock pressed his fingers to McCoy’s cheek, noting the initial flinch when he made contact. “We can stop if you need to.” He reiterated.

“No.” Came the reply.

“Breathe, Leonard.” Spock urged gently. “Slow and steady with me.” They breathed together for a few seconds until McCoy’s heart rate dropped again. “Tell me when you’re ready to initiate the mind meld.”

“I’m ready.”

“I shall proceed.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I plan to post the next chapter (where Spock finds out what’s been upsetting McCoy so much) on Boxing Day, so if you’re celebrating, I wish you a peaceful Christmas. Please don’t be shy about commenting; I thrive on your validation 💕


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock discovers the cause of McCoy’s unusual behaviour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *****CONTENT WARNING*****
> 
> There’s a description of panic attacks in this chapter.

“My mind to your mind,” Spock spoke the incantation softly, “My thoughts to your thoughts. My mind to your mind...” _Let me in, Leonard_ , he implored silently, “...My thoughts to—.” And he was in, adjusting his psychic presence to be as small and unobtrusive as possible in the human’s mind.

Floating in the surface of McCoy’s thoughts, Spock was struck by the changes in his lover’s mind since they had last melded. Whereas in previous mind melds, the majority of McCoy’s mind had been open to him, with a few areas having an _I’d rather you didn’t go here_ feel about them—which of course Spock had always respected—now, vast areas were barricaded off behind feelings of outright hostility and hatred.

 _Breathe, Leonard, breathe._ Spock reminded him, slowing his own breathing as he projected the instruction to encourage McCoy to do the same. _That’s it. Good. You’re doing so well. Do you wish to continue?_

McCoy’s answer was a feeling of resigned trepidation which, under the circumstances, was the closest Spock was going to get to enthusiastic consent. He sifted through the thoughts on the surface of the human’s mind. Uppermost was McCoy’s lingering resentment of Spock’s insistence that the mind meld be conducted so carefully. _A typically human and overly-emotional reaction, my dear._ That got a huff of laughter from McCoy. Also prominent was a fierce feeling of love for Spock and their group of friends aboard the _Enterprise_. This was nothing new—the doctor experienced emotions at extremes even for a human—but the protective feeling alongside it was, if not completely new, vastly increased and far more prominent than it had been previously, and so strong as to feel aggressive rather than defensive. Spock reached out a tendril of his own mind to gently probe this feeling, and found it to be hard and uncompromising, painful to touch.

Noting this new defence and not wishing to intrude any further upon it, Spock turned his attention to the purpose of their mind meld. _Are you ready to show me this memory, Leonard?_

_Yes. It’s here._

The memory McCoy offered was wrapped up tight in defensive barriers and, Spock noted, McCoy’s heart rate was steadily climbing and his breaths becoming faster and shallower, alongside a rising sense of anxiety flooding through their mental connection from his mind to Spock’s.

“Breathe. You must breathe.” Spock spoke the words aloud as well as projecting them directly into McCoy’s thoughts, arresting the panic attack before it overwhelmed them both. “Slow and deep. Slow and deep.” He repeated. _Slow and deep._ Spock dispensed with the verbalisation as McCoy’s heart rate slowed. _Good. Well done, Leonard. Well done._ Spock used his free hand to gently manoeuvre McCoy until he half-lay with his head in the vulcan’s lap, Spock’s fingers still pressed to his face. _We can stop now if you wish to,_ He reminded his companion, _I will not pass judgement on you if we proceed no further._

Spock waited as the mental barriers around the memory softened from a firm _KEEP OUT_ to a resigned-to-necessity _come in if you must _.__

_I believe I must, in order for you to begin healing from this trauma, my love._

_You must, yes. I have to show you..._

_Show me, then._

The barriers around the memory shimmered and flickered out for a nanosecond, just long enough for Spock to slip inside, before they shot up again. 

__

> _Spock reels back as his Mirror Universe counterpart lunges from the biobed, his hand on Spock’s forearm, pushing him back toward to bulkhead. His fear and panic rise as his counterpart raises a hand and presses his fingertips to Spock’s face. His counterpart speaks but Spock is too busy hastily erecting defences in his previously open and naïvely trusting mind to parse what he is saying. Eyes bulging, he presses himself back against the bulkhead, no match for the oncoming telepathic invasion. His counterpart rips through his thoughts and memories with no regard for their relevance, or Spock’s mental pleas to leave him at least some shreds of privacy. A joyous summer afternoon spent picking peaches in childhood—an adolescent sexual fantasy so private Spock feels a wave of nausea at it being forced from him in this manner—Spock,_ that is I, Spock, not I, Spock-who-is-experiencing-Leonard’s-memory, _explaining the history and symbolism of the vulcan IDIC and fastening the little pendant on its chain around his neck alongside an almost visceral feeling of gratitude and love for such a thoughtful and personal gift—. On, and on his counterpart rips through his conscious and subconscious mind, violating thoughts, feelings and memories until he pieces together his origins in a universe similar to but separate from his own, his and his crew-mates’ accidental crossing to this Mirror Universe, and their plan to attempt a return journey. Satisfied at last, his counterpart pushes his way out of Spock’s mind as brutally as he entered, leaving him to slide to the floor, blacking out from the strain of the ordeal._

__

Spock forced himself to regulate his own breathing and heart rate as the memory faded, McCoy’s own physiological responses mirroring his through their connection. “Breathe . . . Breathe . . . Slower . . . Breathe.” He spoke aloud as much for his own benefit as for the human’s. As his breathing calmed he made his way back to the surface of McCoy’s mind. 

_Thank you, Leonard. That was a difficult memory to share._

“Spock, please...?” Leonard spoke aloud. “Please, don’t go. Not yet. Don’t go.” 

_I shall not terminate the mind meld until you are ready for me to do so._ Spock reassured him. 

“Thank you.” _Thank you._

__

_Breathe, my love . . . Breathe . . . That’s it, good. Breathe._

__

Spock remained inside McCoy’s mind, projecting _CALM_ down from the surface to suffuse its depths and well back through the mind meld into Spock’s own mind. They breathed. 

__

Spock did not know how much time had passed when McCoy stirred in his lap. _I need to pee._ He projected apologetically. 

__

That’ll be the coffee.” Spock remarked as he slipped out of McCoy’s mind, stroking his hand tenderly down the other’s face to soften the severance of the connection. “Go on,” He gently pushed the human off his lap, “I’ll be here when you get back.” 

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [ _Star Trek II-V_ movie spoilers ahead!]
> 
> Poor McCoy. I rewatched _The Final Frontier_ yesterday and it really struck me how Bones is so, _so_ protective of Kirk and Spock in that film. That bit when he’s watching Kirk climb El Capitan and then berates him for his dangerous, macho pursuits. Perhaps the seeds of that are sown much earlier, long before Spock dies.
> 
> [/End spoilers]
> 
> Anyway, one more chapter to go! I’ll get it to you before the now year. Thanks for reading along.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spock and McCoy indulge in some post-mind meld aftercare.

Spock set down a tray containing a plate of protein cubes, two glasses of water and a hypospray on the coffee table and took the vacant seat on the sofa beside McCoy. He handed over one glass then drained the second. 

He turned to the human and pressed two fingers lightly to his cheek. “While I regret that it necessitated my intrusion into your privacy via my counterpart’s actions, I am glad you shared that memory with me.” He said.

“Now you know.” McCoy said softly.

“Indeed. Will you eat, please?” Spock picked up the plate and offered it to McCoy. “The mind meld has drained us both. We must replace vital nutrients.”

McCoy took a cube and chewed it. “What’s in the hypo?” He asked.

‘Six CC’s of lexorin, should you need it.”

“Maybe later,” McCoy took another protein cube, “It’s quite nice being all mixed up with you in my head.”

“It can become intrusive.” Spock warned.

“If it does, I’ll take the hypo.”

Spock circled an arm around McCoy’s shoulders and pulled him close to his side. “You are not to blame.”

“Hmm?” McCoy mumbled around a mouthful of protein cube.

“Nonconsensual mind melds are punished severely under Vulcan Law—at least they are in _this_ universe.” Spock pressed a kiss to McCoy’s cheek. “You’re not to blame for what happened.”

“Eh, I’m not really—.” McCoy began, but Spock cut him off.

“I can feel it, Leonard. That seed of guilt. Do not let it take hold.”

“Alright, I’ll try.”

“Thank you. The ship’s computer has several counselling programs. It’s highly probable you’ll find one to suit your needs.”

“Spock,” McCoy changed the subject. “Did you take a shot of lexorin?”

“No, I did not. Would you like me to?”

McCoy turned to Spock and wiggled his eyebrows mischievously. “Yeah, get out of my head.”

“I shall replicate another hypo. I require a higher dose than you do.” Spock rose to go to the replicator.

“Do it in a bit?” McCoy tugged on his arm, pulling him back down to the sofa. He put a hand on the vulcan’s face and pressed an urgent kiss to his lips. “I love you, Spock.”

“I know. You love me so much it almost hurts.”

“Yes.” Another kiss. Deeper, needier. “You’re an infuriating pain in the ass, but I do love you very much.”

“And I love you. It does not hurt me, but my love for you is no less abundant than yours is for me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And thus concludes the little mushy epilogue. I hope you’ve enjoyed reading along. Do let me know what you think in the comments. 
> 
> I’ll leave you with this [ Spones Video](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SCEtI-bSnQc) (not mine!) 💕💙


End file.
